Bitten
by LionshadeSC
Summary: Early on in the start of her journey, Sole Survivor Nora and Synth Detective Nick Valentine make it through the Corvega Assembly Plant. However, the duo don't get long to catch their breath before the next threat approaches, and Nora faces a very real fear. Thankfully, Nick Valentine is there to support and encourage her. oneshot, no spoilers, not romance but can be seen as such


"Oh, oh my-" the Survivor gagged as she staggered from the Corvega Assembly Plant, gasping for breath as she struggled to keep herself from throwing up. The scent of blood and gore permeated the air of the late afternoon as water sprang from her eyes and spilled down her face. She sheathed her machete, checked that there were no other marks on her body she needed to get rid of, and counted her inventory to ensure all weapons and supplies were present.

Footsteps sounded behind her, calm and even and consistent. The synth detective Nick Valentine approached smoothly, unfaltering in his steps as he looked at the Survivor with unblinking concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

The Survivor, having met eyes with his bold golden optics, looked away as a flush of embarrassment flooded her. She stared at the pavement below, and made the mistake of looking at her blood-stained machete, finally prompting the gag to unfurl to a full-blown vomit. Tastes of Nuka-Cola, Instamash, and bits of Salisbury Steak filled her mouth as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Beyond the sound of her retching, she could hear Valentine cry out, "Aw, geez, kid!" and hurry towards her.

She felt his hands hesitantly grab her hair to hold it back as she vomited, and with one hand, he massaged her back as a comforting gesture. "Hey there, it's okay," he reassured as he continued to circle her back with his hand. "Go ahead and get it all out."

Soon the Survivor was left dry-heaving, and she staggered away from her sick, breaking from the detective's massage in the meantime. "Sorry," she found herself apologizing before wiping at the corners of her mouth. She panted as she tried to regain her breath, smacking her lips at the bad taste in her mouth. "It's just. . . with all the raiders we killed. . ." The Survivor felt a pang of desire to confess all she felt about her whole situation, to just unload it all, but when she looked at Valentine, she felt a stab of guilt and uncertainty. Who was she to release all her baggage onto him?

"No need to apologize on my behalf," he allowed flawlessly. Without anything productive to do, the synth let his hands fall to his sides. While the Survivor felt his gaze weigh heavily on her, she also felt how he would look away, as if unsure of where to look. The Synth went on, trying to help her as much as he could, "There's no shame in being disgusted by death. Considering the world you've been thrown into, I'm sure this would be a normal reaction to anyone under this type of duress." He buried one of his hands into his trench pockets, digging around for a moment before he pulled out a bottle of purified water. She gawked at it, amazed, and reached out to take it gratefully. "Besides," he added, "if anything, it makes you more human."

At his words, the Survivor graced a small smile before uncapping the bottle to take a swig of the good water. She swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out, then repeated the process.

"Thanks," she answered, handing him the half-empty bottle. He held up a hand in refusal.

"You can keep it; this old bucket of bolts doesn't need it anyway," was his explanation. The Survivor stuffed it into her pack along her back.

She lightly smiled his way, "Thanks, I really appreciate it." She dared to meet his eyes.

He held gazes with her for a few precious moments, and managed to choke out, "Hey, it's no problem. Do-do you want to keep going, or take a rest Mrs. . .?"

The Survivor blinked warmly at the synth. "Nora," she filled in for him.

The detective's mouth curled up into a careful and guarded smile. "Mrs. Nora."

For the first time in probably a long while, she smiled, and actually felt a laugh bubble from her throat. "No, my _name_ is Nora. No need for formalities with me, Detective Valentine."

"Well alright," he agreed easily enough, and she couldn't help but notice the small smile that graced his lips as he ducked his head down, his face shadowed by his fedora. Nora looked away as she reoriented herself, something in her chest warm as she dusted herself off of the drying blood and dirt that covered her frame. The synth detective cleared his throat to speak, earning a glance by herself as he uttered, "Nick is fine."

Nora raised her eyebrows, and her lips turned up in a smile. "Okay. Nick it is, then." She held out her hand to him.

Detective – no, _Nick –_ lifted his eyes so he could look at her, and he reached out his metal skeleton hand to grasp her own, soft and warm and human. They exchanged smiles as they shook hands for the first time, and Nick chuckled lowly, "I suppose after you rescuing me from my Vault prison, we can drop the formalities."

Nora smiled dryly, and cringed in the slightest, but didn't drop the facade. She saw Nick eye her studiously for a moment, then proceeded to drop his hand back at his side. "So," he started, "shall we get a move on. . .Nora?"

She opened and closed her palms nervously at her side, then nodded, "Yeah, let's get going. To Goodneighbor?"

The detective nodded in agreement, "Goodneighbor."

The pair began walking in the dying light of the sunset. Nora's arms swung at her side as she walked carefully over piles of rubble and across ruined streets. Behind, Nick followed loyally, keeping close to her while maintaining enough distance so she wouldn't feel like her space was being invaded.

"How far to Goodneighbor?" she asked as they continued walking southeast. Nora glanced over her shoulder to ensure Nick was still close, then turned her gaze forward.

Some rocks skittered to the side as Nick answered, "Not that far from here. We'll just have to listen for raiders on our way down, and a gang of supermutants are known to lurk around the entrance to the city."

Nora nodded in quiet comprehension as she hefted her bag over her shoulder for comfort. "Sounds good; how's our chances for running into some-"

"Ghouls," Nick interrupted suddenly, his voice cool, his posture tall and alert as he turned his head towards their immediate left. Nora followed the direction of his gaze to a group of old and rusting cars parked along the street. At once, the travelling companions retrieved their weapons strapped across their backs and waists. Nora felt her hands trembling as she faced the old car, and something in her chest tightened as she heard the low and unruly growl from down below.

Just a little self-consciously, she edged her way a little closer to Nick.

Nick glanced at her as she moved discreetly towards him in an effort to save face, studied her form for one brief moment, then took a step back so he could stand closer to her side. The synth lowered his gun and holstered it with quick and efficient hands as he began speaking rapidly, "Okay," he started, and glanced at where the growling was coming from before he continued, "I'm not an expert with these type of melee weapons but you'd have a better time holding it like _this_." He adjusted her grip with careful hands, avoiding her surprised stare.

Nora flexed her hands over her adjusted grip on the machete, and offered Nick a smile, "Thanks, Detective." She laughed breathlessly, "I still have a lot to learn."

The detective glanced up beneath the brim of his hat to receive her smile, then ducked back into the shelter his fedora provided. "Don't worry about it," he reassured, and Nora felt something in her clench as he informed, "you'll pick it up soon enough. Just watch, you might become the most dangerous dame across the Commonwealth." Nick lifted his pistol back up, his stare long and inhuman as he kept his attention on the restless ghouls just ahead.

Nora found herself continuing to stare at him, perplexed, but when he looked at her with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, she looked away and bit her bottom lip as she shuffled her position. "Ready to go in?" Nick asked, the essence of patience and understanding.

He waited for her to be ready, and when she nodded, they inched forward cautiously. Nick, ever the gentleman, let Nora set the pace. He waited for her to decide when she was ready to investigate further for the ghouls, and when they got close enough to the cars parked on the street, the radiation-riddled bodies rose from the ground. Pale, milky eyes glared at her as the once-humans staggered forward on thin legs; growls rose harsh and vile from their throats as they bared yellowed teeth.

The Survivor hefted her machete, breathed deeply, and with a burst of courage, charged forward.

At her side, Nick's pistol shot at the former humans with deadly accuracy. Bullet holes appeared in the ghouls as they crumpled to the ground, dead. Meanwhile, Nora slashed her sharpened machete through the bodies, surprised at how easy it was to tear into the flesh. Within moments, ghouls lay dead around her feet as more swarmed around her.

They came from all sides, and despite the fear pumping in every beat of her heart, Nora felt strangely calm as she turned to address every threat in the form of these ferals. She frowned with fierce concentration, attuned to every growl and shuffling step by the ghouls while also keeping Nick in the back of her mind as he fired and bashed his gun at the mindless beasts.

One snarled and roared as it leaped to attack her; long fingernails slashed at her arm as another attacked from the other side. With just a few swings of her machete, they collapsed to the ground, and as she turned to look at Nick in case he needed help, she realized that they had fought off every single one. 

Nora panted, looking towards her companion as her heart soared in exhilaration. "Well done!" Nick praised, and she felt her heart glow with warmth. "I was right when I said you would get the hang of it, wouldn't I?" the detective asked with a smile in his voice as he holstered his pistol.

"Yeah," Nora agreed breathlessly, her eyes shining behind her eyeglasses. She looked at the numerous bodies splayed around them, and rolled her shoulders loosely. "That, that actually felt pretty good," she acknowledged, and mirrored Nick as she put her machete back into it's own sheathe across her back.

Nick offered a closed-smile at her words, "I'm glad to hear that. Time to loot?"

She nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah," she agreed, "time to loot."

The detective set to work as Nora did the same. She pocketed any caps she found and added any supplies into her pack while Nick looked on dubiously at the junk she gathered. The Survivor kept an eye out for any other dangers while she did, listening for suspicious sounds as Nick moved around.

"Good haul," she said to him in an attempt to make light conversation. "Got some good caps from it." She dug out the loose change as she sorted them out equally. "Here," she offered the synth. "Your fair share of the- _augh!_ "

Pain flared from her arm as the Survivor reached out to hand the detective his share of the spoils, and she couldn't help the gasp of pain as she immediately held her arm up to her chest protectively. The caps she held clattered to the ground as she gasped in pained shock. Cautiously, she moved her arm out so she could roll up the sleeve of her Vault suit, the thick fabric crinkling up so she could see her lower forearm. As she exposed the soft and pale flesh, flashes of pain spiked fast and intense through her, followed by a dull throbbing.

She finally pulled on the sleeve far enough to expose the injury, as observed by the bright crimson blood that slid over her skin by the movement. She grimaced at it, but could tell by the pain it wasn't very deep, but it certainly felt strange, strange in that she had never experienced a wound quite like this one. Maybe it was the whole situation of fighting radiated once-humans that was setting her off. . .

Nick, crouched down several paces away as he looted, startled at her cry. He looked up, his wide and staring eyes watching her as she studied her injury from the fight. "Everything all right?" he called, uncertain.

In this moment, Nora realized the severity of her wound. Panic immediately flashed through her whole body, and she felt like all heat left her in a single breath as it drained through her body to her feet and into the hard Commonwealth ground. She grasped her arm with clenched fingers, and could find no way to stop the sudden trembling that set in from her nerves.

The wound on her arm did indeed hold a certain kind of strangeness, with indents into her skin separated oddly and making an almost circular-like shape.

A bite. Somewhere in the heat of battle, a ghoul had bit her.

Her throat clamped with fear as her face twisted desperately, and as she choked for words, her throat managed to call out a single, pleading cry for attention.

" _Nick!"_ she nearly screamed as her expression soured into a cry as tears streamed down her flushed face.

He stood at once to his full height, the detective on full-alert at the cry of his companion. "Nora!" he called, his expression mimicking one of surprise and worry. He immediately hurried towards her, clambering over rubble and bodies of ghouls to reach her, his pace frantic from the panic in the Survivor's voice. "What is it?!" his eyebrows arched into his forehead as he looked between her expression and her bloodied arm.

"Nick," she gargled, everything in her wrenched in horror and fear. "I was bit." Her mind flickered with a million different things that could happen because of this. "A-A ghoul bit me; what do I do?!"

For a handful of moments, the synth froze, almost as if every wire and spark of electricity in his body died. He stared in mute shock at her arm, then released a long and shaking sigh. "A ghoul bite, that-that's it?"

Her frantic mind forbade him from being so calm, from sounding so nonchalant about all this. "Yes, a ghoul bite! What do I do? What are my options?! Nick!"

He blinked, and clarity passed over his expression, followed by his features softening as he neared her, laughing softly in perhaps relief. He grabbed her wounded arm with the most gentle of touches, and sighed lightly when he looked at it. "Nora," he said her name softly, reorienting her. He met her eyes. "Ghoul bites aren't infectious, not in the way you're thinking."

She stared at him, and while her heart continued to beat fervently, she knew that what he said rang with truth. Ever so slightly, her shoulders relaxed. "They. . . they don't?" Images flashing in her mind of zombies turning people into zombies from bites started to flicker and fade, replaced by reality. Nora looked at the bite. "I won't turn into one of those? The ghouls?"

" _Feral_ ghouls," he corrected her patiently as he looked at the bite, and pulled out the bottle of purified water to pour over the injury to wash away the blood. Pink water dripped from her arm. "You won't turn into one of them; it only happens if you get exposed to he right amount of radiation, usually a whole lot over a long time. We're taking hundreds of rads a minute for, god, weeks, at the most."

Nora watched him as he capped the purified water and dug out a Stimpak. With practiced fingers, the synth injected the serum with ease just below the circle of teeth marks. Before her eyes, her flesh began to knit back together, muscle and skin mending until there was nothing more than dried blood over new skin.

Nick tossed the used Stimpak onto the street several paces away. Nora could feel the panic in her chest beginning to fade, replaced by a swell of embarrassment and humiliation from her reaction. Hot tears began to burn her eyes, and a huge lump made its way up her throat. "Thanks, Nick," she croaked. She brought a hand up to her eyes to wipe at the tears with the palm of her hand. "I-I guess I still have a lot to learn-"

She tried to stop herself from crying, tried to tell herself to be brave, to be strong, but the scare from the bite was so real, so palpable; it felt like she would never adapt to this new world.

Her face wrenched and twisted her expression, and the astute Synth Detective hesitated for only a moment before bringing her forward to wrap in his comforting, reassuring embrace so the Sole Survivor could sob into his shoulder.

He patted her shoulder in consolidation, sighing long and slow. "You'll get the hang of it, Nora," he rumbled. "Just takes some time. Don't be someone that lets the Commonwealth get to ya."

She hiccuped from sobbing, and nodded against his tear-stained trench-coat. "I won't, Nick." She sniffled, wiped at her nose as her arm brushed against his chest. "Thanks."

"Not a problem, doll," he murmured.

Nora took a careful step away from him, lifting her arm to wipe at her nose. From his coat, the detective held out a bandanna, old and dusty, but she took it gratefully to wipe over her face. She handed it back to him, and he stuffed it inside the folds of his trench coat. He watched her quietly. She took a deep and cleansing breath, then released it with a shuddering sigh. When she opened her eyes, Nick was still there, patient and quiet, giving her time to be ready.

She nodded, feeling a bit more resolved and hardened to the new challenges this world presented. "Okay." She sniffed again, and looked at her companion with steely determination. "Ready to head out?"

A half-smile curled up his face, and his gaze was amazingly warm. "Sure thing, doll."


End file.
